


Long Time Coming

by bowtieseleven



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Drabbles, I wrote this for myself, M/M, just posting here for reference, set in the fallout 4 universe, this is all about my oc's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowtieseleven/pseuds/bowtieseleven
Summary: Avniel Green's been alone in the Wasteland since his family was killed when he was fourteen. He hops from job to job, aimless, until one requires him to find a sniper who is allegedly the best in the Commonwealth. From that day on, his life will never be aimless again.





	

Avniel gave a look to the old synth that hopefully showed that he meant business. He hadn't come all the way to Diamond City to chat about the weather.

Valentine just shifted in his chair, his ruined face shifting into something of a smile.

“No, really. Sit. I insist, Mr...”

"Green," Avniel sighed, complying only out of impatience. He sat slowly in the chair on the other side of the desk, facing Valentine.

“I was told that you could help me, so are you going to listen to me or not?”

“Oh, sure, I’ll listen. I’m just not sure that I’m going to be able to help you.”

Something in his tone tipped Avniel off to the fact that the synth knew more than Avniel had first thought, which meant that someone had already snitched. This is why he hated this town- people couldn't mind their own business. He leaned forward, looking Valentine straight in his glowing, yellow eyes.

“Alright, synth, you obviously know what I'm looking for. Word travels fast in this goddamned city.”

Valentine nodded, blinking his eerie eyes slowly. He fiddled with the cigar between his exposed metal fingers. Obviously he couldn’t smoke it, but it must be an old habit. 

“Sure does. A little birdy’s told me that you’re lookin’ for Thorne.”

So he did know. Avniel sat back, thinking about the best way to approach this. Moody had said that Valentine and Thorne were good friends and that he would be defensive. It already looked bad, but Avniel wasn’t giving up when there was the promise of so many caps in the picture. He looked up at the synth’s expressionless face, trying to look as earnest and non-threatening as possible.

“That’s right. But I mean him no harm, I swear to you. My employer, a man named Moody, is looking to hire him for a job, that’s all. It pays well and there’s little risk. If you could just tip me off to where he might be, I’d owe you a debt.”

Valentine set the cigar down on the desk and folded his hands together on top of it. He stayed like that, silent for a long moment, regarding Avniel until it made the man shift uncomfortably, looking away.

“Okay,” the synth said finally, startling Avniel into looking up at him again. 

“Huh?”

“Okay. I believe you, Green. I’ve seen enough liars in my time to know that you aren’t one. I owe Jason a lot more than some caps, but anything I can do to make the man’s life a little easier, I’ll gladly do it.”

Jason must be Thorne’s first name, Avniel thought. Somehow it made the guy seem more real, and less like a mysterious legendary sniper. All of a sudden, Avniel wanted to meet him, not just because it was his job. Anyone who got on first name basis with a crotchety old synth like this must truly be something.

Valentine seemed to know what he was thinking because he chuckled, looking at Avniel with his yellow eyes that seemed softer than before somehow.

“He’s not an ordinary guy, I can tell you that much. No one’s ever treated this old synth better in all my years in this damned wasteland. I’d die for the man and that’s saying something.”

Then his eyes snapped back to harsh, as he leaned forward earnestly, causing Avniel’s breath to catch in his throat.

“Saying that, if I help you find him and he ends up dead or hurt, I will track you down and you will regret every moment you’ve been alive. Got it?”

Avniel could only nod, taken aback. He didn’t doubt that Valentine meant every word he said-it was written plainly in the tension that crackled around the two.

“Good. Now that we understand one another, I can point you in the right direction. I don’t know exactly where he is right now, but he likes to frequent the bar in Goodneighbor.” He chuckled again, his glowing eyes positively twinkling. “Jay doesn’t drink, but he likes to people watch, it’s how he makes connections, picks up jobs, things like that. If he’s not there, the bar tender might be able to tell you something. They know him there well enough, but it’ll be hard to get information out of them. They know as well as anyone that the man has several prices on his head. Anyway, just tell them ol’ Nick Valentine sent you and you should be fine. Do you need anything else?”

“No, I don’t think so. Thanks Valentine.”

Avniel got up, resisting the urge to pinch one of the synth’s cigars off of his desk.

“You ever been to Goodneighbor?”

Avniel shook his head.

“Have fun. It’s an interesting place. The mayor’s a friend of mine.”

Avniel turned, nodding goodbye to Valentine’s secretary. Just as he reached the door, Valentine called out,  
“If you find ‘im, tell Jay that he should come visit me, okay?”

“Sure,” Avniel said, turning the creaky doorknob. “If I find him.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Avniel looked around the bar, which was built in an old subway station, giving the place an open, drafty feeling. He wasn’t sure he liked it very much, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was whether Thorne was here and if he wasn’t, if he would be able to find him.  
Avniel couldn’t exactly go around asking everyone if they were the most wanted sniper in the Commonwealth. He had to be subtle which he knew wasn’t his strongest point. 

He started by walking casually up to the bar, like all he wanted was a drink and maybe some small talk. As he approached the handy bot bar tender, he side-eyed the few Wastelanders sitting on the dilapidated stools. There was a large man with a bushy red beard. He didn’t look nearly stealthy enough to be a sniper. Next to him sat a hunched over old woman with wrinkled leathery skin who looked like she would crumble into dust at any contact. There was an empty stool next to her and the person in the next one over had their back to Avniel, their face obscured. From what he could see, they were male, slim, rather short, and had short, messy blond hair. He was leaned over, his face resting on his palm. 

As Avniel stared, suddenly the man turned towards him like he could feel his eyes on them. Clear, grey eyes met Avniel’s before the robotic voice of the bartender startled him into breaking the brief eye contact. He whipped his head towards the robot, heart beating faster than it should be under the circumstances. 

“What?” he asked, a little too loudly. 

If a handy man robot could look amused, this one would.

“I said, would you like anything to drink sir?”

The ‘sir’ was less than sincere, which sounded strange after the overbearing politeness of the handy man robots that Avniel had met before.

“Uh, yes. A whiskey please.”

“Very good sir.” The robot turned and began whirring his gears and waving his arms around. Now that he wasn’t distracted anymore, Avniel remembered the grey eyes and turned to the right hoping to see them again. He was met only with the sight of an empty bar stool and a few caps left on the counter. 

When the robot slid his drink towards him, Avniel had to ask, despite himself. 

“Mr. uh…”

“Call me Charlie,” the robot said, picking up a glass and wiping it haphazardly. “What seems to be the problem?”

“No problem. I was wondering who that was who was just sitting over there?”

“Hmm,” Charlie hummed. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Something clicked in Avniel’s brain and he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He was actually getting somewhere.

“Nick Valentine sent me,” he said quickly. “I have an employer who’s looking for a sniper.”

He was cut off as Charlie whirred loudly, drowning out his next words.

“Shhh now. Keep your voice down, will you? Mr. Thorne isn’t exactly the most popular individual in the Commonwealth.”

Avniel’s heart sped up again. He was right. 

“Sorry. Do you know where I might find him?”

“Well, now that you’ve scared him off, I’d say he’s most likely in the room he rented.”

“Where?” Avniel asked, looking around. 

Charlie whirred again, but more thoughtfully this time.

“I'll show you, but be warned. Mr. Thorne’s cautious and for good reason. You’ll have some convincing to do and if he doesn’t trust you, I’m certainly not helping you.”

“I’ll take the risk,” Avniel said. 

"Wait here." Charlie turned and floated off, coming back shortly. "You're lucky he'll talk to you. Follow me."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Avniel looked with amazement at the man in front of him, and it wasn't because he had a pistol aimed at Avniel face. He looked nothing like he had imagined, and yet there was no doubt that this was Jason Thorne, the best sniper in the Commonwealth. Where he had expected the man’s skin to be rough and tanned, it was pale and smooth. Where he had expected Thorne’s hair to be short and dark, it was a healthy looking light blond that curled messily on top, the ends grazing his forehead. The sides were cut slightly shorter than the top and Avniel couldn’t help but observe how well it suited him. 

Avniel’s eyes quickly traveled down from Thorne’s face, which was clean shaven, and surprisingly youthful, to his lithe, compact body. He was wearing practical clothing that looked almost like a typical Raider's outfit. He was shorter than Avniel by a few inches, but his agility and strength clearly showed, even in his small movements. Right now, his stance was alert and closed off, and as Avniel’s gaze travelled back up, he realized that Thorne wasn’t enjoying his once-over. Those clear, strikingly gray eyes were hard with distrust.

“Who are you?” his voice was quiet, but clear, effectively breaking Avniel out of his trance. He looked at Thorne clearly and with a burst of shame, realized that he had pretty much been checking him out. Avniel never did that, it just wasn’t who he was. 

Thrown for a loop for once, Avniel had to force the words out of his throat rather painfully.

“Green,” he said. He thought about extending a hand, but decided against it, since Thorne was holding a pistol. He decided it would be best to get straight to the point. “I work for a man named Moody.”

Thorne relaxed his shoulders and lowered his gun, sighing minutely. 

“Moody? Yeah, I’ve heard of him. What does he want?”

“What do you think? He wants to hire you for a job down south. He says that it’s low risk, high pay.”

“No job that pays well is low risk,” Thorne muttered, but he looked at the ground, chewing on the corner of his lip and Avniel realized with relief that he was thinking it over.

After a moment, when Avniel was starting to get antsy, running a hand through his dark red hair self consciously, Thorne finally looked up and the mask slipped from his face for a moment, his eyes shining so brightly that Avniel had to take a breath.

“Will you be there?”

“What?”

“Are you doing the job too, Green?” Thorne asked simply, as if it was the most reasonable thing he could have said.

“Yeah, I will be,” Avniel said slowly, thrown for a loop for the second time in five minutes. “Why do you ask?”

“Let’s just say I’m a good judge of character, and I only do jobs if there are good people involved.”

In all his lonely days of wandering the Wasteland, Avniel had never been complimented on his character. On his shooting, on how well he could intimidate, on his tracking skills even, sure. But never on who he really was. He didn’t even know this person, but for a moment, he felt such unprecedented and overwhelming gratitude that he felt like he had to sit down.

“You alright there?” Thorne was asking, and Avniel snapped out of it again, cursing himself under his breath. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing here.

“I’m fine. Are you taking the job or not?” The words came out harsher than he had intended, but Thorne gave no indication that he had noticed.

“Do you think I should?”

“I guess so. Yeah, why not?”

“Why not, indeed,” Thorne agreed, quirking the right side of his mouth up in a smile. He had a small vertical scar there, on his upper lip, Avniel noticed. It looked red, like it was relatively new. Unconsciously, Avniel rubbed his own lip in the same spot, wondering how the mark would feel under the pad of his thumb. 

Thorne continued after a slight pause in which he studied Avniel's face, gray eyes soft and contemplative, “I’ll take the job, just let me take care of a few things in town. I’ll meet you by the West gates in an hour, and you can fill me in.”

Avniel smiled and it was a real one- the first in a long, long time.


End file.
